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Post by Cyrille Lécuyer on Nov 11, 2014 21:15:21 GMT -5
For the first time in ever, Cyrille was visiting the dojo not ungodly early.
Yes, it had generally been a good idea for him to come to the dojo as early as possible. It had never been a big deal, really. Cyrille had always woken up earlier than most. He’d train as early as possible when he was back at home, so why stop that ritual now that he was at the school he had been training for in the first place? Of course, today was a bit of a special day. Cyrille had slept in for probably the first time in his life. And that was because he had had a nightmare the night before and gotten no sleep, then managed to sleep for an unearthly amount of time last night.
Oh well. None of that mattered right about now. Because everything had worked out nicely in the end.
There was enough of a lack of people in the dojo right about now that Cyrille was calm enough to train. He didn’t really like being around a lot of people, be that either gender. Though if a female did get too close even if there were basically no other people around things wouldn’t be too peachy either. The good thing was Cyrille had grown accustomed to zoning out things around him and focusing on his target whilst holding a sword, even if that target was just a training dummy.
Cyrille was actually a tad surprised by the lack of people around. It was right, right after classes. He had figured that would be when everyone went to go sharpen up their techniques, but nope! Perhaps the students were tired after their lessons. Or working on homework. Or perhaps they had social lives unlike Cyrille. Regardless, the quietness of the dojo struck him as odd.
Once again Cyrille was beating up a poor defenseless training dummy. Most people would try to practise with weapons they were not familiar with or needed to get better with. But, not Cyrille! When it came to swords he was quite good at handling basically all of them, so now a days he practised wielding them for fun. And exercise of course, though he could do basic stuff like he was doing now - simple jabs and the like - without breaking a sweat.
A katana. A simple blade that Cyrille adored because it had a very good range for a sword. Two handed it also packed a punch, though it was a versatile weapon if dual wielded. Of course, he couldn’t dual wield. Cyrille rolled his shoulder. It was so very annoying how whenever he thought about the injury it begun to hurt.
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Post by Deleted on Nov 30, 2014 22:36:47 GMT -5
The moment class ended, James was out of his chair and hurrying down the hall. Though he largely went unnoticed in the fairly large class, the girl on the front row gave him a strange look as he pushed past her. Normally he just waited for the room to clear out before he left, and then he would mosey over to the library or back to his dorm. But he had made the decision to ignore anything that had a normally in front of it, because that was the way things used to be and he wasn't going to be that way anymore. He was going to change, to become better, and the first place to start was the dojo--and hopefully, his new French friend would be there.
Cyrille was a little stand-offish, and a bit of a loner, but he was a good kid. James had only met him once, but at the very least he was confident in that. And he really did think of the colder male as a friend. (Not that he'd ever tell the other that, not now anyway.)
Today wasn't just a time to hang out, though. Cyrille was all of those things that had been listed before, but he was also strong and had offered to do some training with James on that day they had met. And today James had every intention of doing just that; only, he wasn't sure if Cyrille would be in the dojo. The pink-haired man was almost always in the dojo, or so James had heard anyway. But James also had that kind of luck that declared today would be the one day Cyrille took a break. So he had to hurry, before his new friend decided that it was time to leave. At the very least, if he wasn't at the dojo he'd be somewhere else on the property. But James was really hoping he was at the dojo.
James practically slipped through the door, though thankfully there weren't many people here at all. (Which really made him wonder if most students do any training at all or if now was just a bad time.) He scanned the room a bit, and it was easy to spot his target. A huge grin lit up his face as he zeroed in on the tall boy and started to make his way over. Slowly, of course, because he didn't want his head getting lopped off.
"Cyrille!" he called for good measure, stopping a little ways away and shoving his hands into his pockets. He kept the grin on his face, though, looking incredibly pleased to see the other Meister. (A good disguise for how nervous he was; what if Cyrille didn't remember him? That would be extremely embarrassing.)
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Post by Cyrille Lécuyer on Dec 1, 2014 19:15:15 GMT -5
After quite a bit - maybe a half hour or more - of training, Cyrille was beginning to grow tired. No, wait. Tired was not quite the right word. Bored was a much better word. Familiar motions did get boring after a while. Cyrille had half the mind to stop, but then again he also couldn’t think of anything he would prefer to be doing. Perhaps ranged combat training? Eh. He’d rather pass on that.
James was lucky. Normally when Cyrille was practicing combat he zoned everything around him out, save for his target. But since he was feeling a bit out of it today, be that because of the time of day or he was coming down with something or whatever, he actually noticed when James spoke. Immediately upon hearing his name Cyrille stopped his motions and froze, tensing up ever so slightly, but only for a minute. The voice did not sound like it was there to yell at Cyrille for doing something wrong, nor did it sound as though it was angry about something.
But most importantly was the fact that the voice was familiar.
Cyrille could not pride himself for having a phenomenal memory. His memory was not bad by any stretch of the word, as he could remember certain things in next to perfect detail, but when it came to remembering faces and voices he tended to forget them as quickly as he first saw/heard them. But not this particular voice. No, Cyrille liked this certain voice, for it belonged to one of the - what, two? - people who actually didn’t hate him. Or so he thought, at least. Hoped.
Slowly turning around, Cyrille noted the smile on James’ face. Cyrille knew what he was here for, but he seemed a bit happier than Cyrille would have thought. Perhaps even smug? No. Just pleased. Odd. Regardless, the smile was not returned. That wasn’t because Cyrille was not happy to see James, far from it. He just did not smile very often. It was as simple as that.
”Have you come for training?” He asked in his normal soft spoken manner. The question was rhetorical. Why else would James had looked for him in the dojo? And with such a large smile, no less. James had gotten a weapon partner already, had he? Well, that was good. Cyrille had not been in contact with his weapon partner for quite some time. Hopefully James would fair better luck. Of course, he probably would. James was a nice kid. Much more so than Cyrille.
It was then he noted James’ distinct lack of a weapon. ”Hm? You have no weapon?” Oh, right. James had probably never been to the dojo before. Well, that made sense. Cyrille noted the few training swords that had been neatly stacked to his right. Y’know, so he could switch weapons if he wanted to. Swords were his expertise. The pile included just about every light sword of european origin, save for a rapier. ”If your partner’s a sword, then... it’d probably be over there.”
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Post by Deleted on Dec 20, 2014 0:26:03 GMT -5
Well at the very least, James hadn't been forgotten. That was a relief. Now, whether Cyrille was groaning inside about this meeting was a whole different matter, one that would surely depress James if he thought about it too much. So he chose not to, because at least Cyrille didn't look unhappy to see him. Or, well, he didn't look any more unhappy than usual. And so far, there were no anxiety attacks. So this was already going a lot better than their last meeting.
Even though the question was rhetorical, James nodded enthusiastically to confirm that he had indeed come for training this time. He had very, very recently found himself a partner. And that was great, and they were in the process of becoming good friends. But that didn't change the fact that he was almost completely inept, in any type of warfare. But Dante happened to be a sword, so James wanted to learn how to handle this type of weapon first. And if he remembered correctly, that was Cyrille's specialty.
James had been so good about keeping a smile firmly planted on his face, but it faltered at Cyrille's question. Was he supposed to bring a weapon? It wasn't like he had a spare rapier in his dorm, and he had kind of been too embarrassed to ask Dante to come with him to this session. He had assumed that what he needed would have been here, but was he wrong? Did he need to go buy a practice sword? That sounded expensive, and while his mother probably wouldn't mind that expense he didn't feel right asking for it. Thankfully, things were cleared up almost instantly; he didn't need a weapon, not at the moment. Like he suspected, there were practice swords he could use. He didn't waste any time in heading to the pile, searching for something that vaguely resembled the form Dante had taken the other day. He didn't know anything about swords, so he didn't know if he could practice with anything other than a rapier. Just to be safe, he wouldn't. But he didn't see what he was looking for. He hummed a little in thought, biting down on his lower lip.
"Hey, Cyrille?" he twisted around to look at the other person, his expression sheepish. "My sword's not in here...are there any...?" he drifted off, forehead wrinkling a little in thought. "Anything thinner? Like...a rapier!" He looked really proud of himself as he remembered the type of sword he needed.
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Post by Cyrille Lécuyer on Dec 20, 2014 9:43:51 GMT -5
Cyrille tried not to watch too closely as James looked through the pile of swords he had there. Yes, that’d just look creepy. Instead, he turned his attention to the training dummy and thought for a minute. So, James used a sword. That was good. But, it also meant Cyrille should probably change up the weapon he used. He could speak endlessly about why the katana was one of the best swords in existence, but that was just it. Cyrille figured he should give James an upper hand. It would be no fair if his range surpassed the other’s.
It seemed as though James was awfully happy about this whole thing. That was a relief. Cyrille had been somewhat nervous that James was really just doing this to be nice or something silly like that. Or... maybe he was and he was simply the kind of person that could feign happiness easily. Wow did Cyrille wish he had that skill. But, he didn’t. Cyrille barely even smiled in the first place.
Eventually Cyrille heard James’ voice again. He assumed that was the first time he had spoke, but to be honest he wasn’t quite sure as he had been kind of zoned out. Cyrille turned slowly on the spot to look at James. It seemed as though the sword James required was not there. Hm? That was funny. Perhaps his partner’s weapon form was odd looking and therefore hard to distinguish...
What followed next was Cyrille’s face going blank. His body felt somewhat numb. So, James did know what weapon it was he needed. A rapier. Multiple times Cyrille started at words but ended up going quiet without saying a thing. Eventually he took a deep breath and cleared his throat. Normally Cyrille would have freaked out just a bit more than this, but he had been researching how to enhance his Grigori soul. So...
”A... rapier?” He asked, as softly as his now somewhat raspy voice could manage. Just saying that word was unpleasing to the ear. He quickly tried to think of a translation for his racing thoughts, then once he did suddenly sprung up with new-found energy, the numbness being replaced by his body heating up a bit more than it should. ”Your partner wouldn’t happen to be a woman, would it?”
Cyrille knew in the back of his mind that the answer would be no, but he half hoped for it to be yes. Sure, what he wanted to do to that bitch of a woman would get him kicked out of school, and probably sent to jail, but he didn’t really care either. Right now Cyrille just stared at James with a look of bewilderment, biting hard on his tongue to make sure he didn’t end up saying anything stupid.
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Post by Deleted on Dec 30, 2014 23:51:52 GMT -5
James wasn't one to think too highly of himself in any situation, but he knew he wasn't completely stupid. When it came to words, he tended to just blurt things out and not put much thought into them, but at least he could immediately recognize when something he had said was stupid. But for the second time in his entire relationship with Cyrille, he had said something to perturb the other and he couldn't quite figure out what it was that had caused the freeze-up. James was fully facing his friend now, victorious expression fading into something a little more worried-looking. An apology was forming in his throat when Cyrille finally spoke up.
So it was the sword that bothered him? That was a little puzzling, and James' mind filled with scenarios trying to connect this piece to the others he had gathered during the last incident. Nothing solid came up, and he'd never question Cyrille about any of them because last time that got him into bigger trouble. Honestly, it would be better if he didn't even think about it at all. But brains were pretty hard to control in times like these.
The next question deleted a few of his theories, and pushed others closer to the front of his mind. He took special care not to mention any of them, though. Instead, he gave a very hesitant sounding "No..." Looking a little more confident in himself, he tacked on a "He's definitely a guy." Which made everything okay, right? Or did it make things worse? He was ninety-five percent sure Cyrille had some kind of social anxiety, so maybe he was worried that Dante would show up? He made the firm decision that it really wasn't worth this much thought and worry, because in the end Cyrille probably wouldn't give him much of an explanation anyway.
"Is that going to be a problem? I mean, I can work with something else, right? Um..." He looked back over to the pile of swords, a little distressed now. Could he just do that? Could he just use a different sword? He had a feeling he couldn't.
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Post by Cyrille Lécuyer on Dec 31, 2014 10:02:22 GMT -5
James’ face fading to worry didn’t seem to heighten Cyrille’s mood at all. Generally speaking, when something like this happened he wouldn’t have even noticed the slight change in expression. However, he was beginning to learn more and more what made his Grigori soul tick. It was interesting information, and certainly helping him act relatively calm right now. Or at least... he had thought he had been acting relatively calm, given circumstance. Now was the time for Cyrille to remind himself that he was a moron and people could notice expression more than he gave them credit for.
Alright. The response he got relieved Cyrille of pretty much all of his worries. ”Not?” He spoke in not much more than an answer, his voice sounding as though he didn’t believe James and was looking for confirmation. The question was rhetorical, though. Yes, he was obviously a moron for even thinking such a thing could be a possibility! Clearly she had been too old to attend the school in the first place when they had met. No, she would have had to be a staff member. Students didn’t just go around partnering with the staff, and more importantly Cyrille had looked through pictures of the staff and had yet to see one of the woman dressed in blue. That was awfully good, because what he’d do to her if she was here would probably get him kicked out of the school.
With that reassurance, Cyrille’s expression changed to that of a grim smile. He was still not happy with the idea of fighting a rapier, but hey, it might be good for him. Of all the swords that was the one he knew the least, save for maybe the overly large swords he could never seem to understand the purpose of. Despite their size they were too heavy to block with... but that was besides the point. He threw the katana he had been practicing with down to the side, to land beside the other dull training swords with a soft “clang”.
”No, that’s alright.” Cyrille spoke with an apologetic tone. ”I was just thinking of someone I knew. You should be able to find one in one of the weapon crates near the entrance.” Yes, it surely wasn’t a big deal for someone he trusted to wield that kind of sword. After all, it was just a sword, and an awfully dull one at that. Those thoughts reassured Cyrille a ton. In fact...
He picked up a falchion from the weapon pile beside him. Despite everything, he had at least managed to still be able to practise with the like of these weapons. It was a good pair up for a rapier. And by good, he meant absolutely horrible. Falchions and weapons similar were absolutely horrible at deflecting jabs. They were great at deflecting swipes, but jabs not so much. To deflect jabs, something much more long and narrow was much better than short and wide. Since he clearly had more experience than James, this would be the best weapon he could possibly use.
Looking up to see if James had managed to get his weapon or not, Cyrille quickly thought about how he should go about this. Technically a rapier could do both swipes and jabs, but it was a bit better at jabbing so he would work on that for today. Erm. Wait. Wouldn’t he need to help James even hold the thing right? Well, this might be interesting.
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Post by Deleted on Jan 9, 2015 1:26:48 GMT -5
James couldn’t actually tell if his answer had made Cyrille feel any better at all. He had smiled, kind of, and while it was quickly becoming apparent that this was quite a feat for Cyrille (James would have to observe him a little further to be sure, though) it still wasn’t necessarily a happy smile. Because this was only their second meeting, nothing really solid in terms of evidence had appeared, so James couldn’t tell if this was just a personality quirk or if Cyrille genuinely despised his company. Not that James really blamed him; if given the choice, James knew he certainly wouldn’t want to hang out with himself.
The new and ever-so-slightly positive voice that was starting to make a prominent position in his brain gently reminded him that Cyrille had not been exposed to him enough to completely hate him yet, and that he would not have offered to train him had he felt that way. And that kind of made James feel better.
What ultimately put James at ease was that he got a legitimate explanation this time. His eyes grew wide in understanding, and he quickly bobbed his head up and down. “Ohh, right!” Of course. There were many students in attendance, and it was silly to think that Dante was the only rapier in town. Cyrille must not get along well with the other one, and James was sure that it was for good reason and made a note to keep away from female rapiers.
With that weight off his shoulders, he happily hurried over to the door to look for his weapon of choice—or, rather, the weapon that had chosen him. That was actually really nice to think about. In all his life, James couldn’t remember ever being picked by anyone. It was a little weird but also extremely exciting to have finally been picked for something. And as he found the sword he was looking for, his confidence was renewed. After all, he couldn’t let Dante down.
He couldn’t let Cyrille down, either, since he was being so kind as to help him out. James would have to work hard.
Thankfully, he could at least hold the sword correctly. He made his way back to where Cyrille was standing, a warm grin dominating his expression. “What first, coach?”
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Post by Cyrille Lécuyer on Jan 9, 2015 10:03:18 GMT -5
Alright. Looked as though Cyrille’s vagueness didn’t come around to bite him in the ass for once. James didn’t ask him any further about the rapier somebody, so that was good. Yes, this’d be all fine! It was easy enough for Cyrille to repress those awful, awful memories, easy being used as a synonym for basically impossible. God, it was a bad idea to have agreed to this. No matter, he could beat himself up when he got back to his dorm.
He glanced at the falchion he held for a bit as James went to go get his rapier. So, this was either a really good idea, or a really horrible idea. Dealing with this whole situation may just help Cyrille to overcome stuff. Or... or it could completely backfire like the rest of his attempts to remedy situations had and make him feel even more miserable than usual for the rest of the week.
Eventually James came back. Cyrille quickly looked at his hands to note that he was, at the very least, holding it correctly. Well, the weapon must have told him how to do such things. Kinda funny how Cyrille’s only friend (hopefully) here partnered with a rapier. Hopefully Cyrille wouldn’t have to worry about meeting them. Or rather, worry about seeing them transform. It was good Cyrille didn’t even come close to partnering with them or something.
”Well, uh,” Cyrille begun. Funnily enough, he had thought up plans for most common weapons he could think of for this. Not rapiers, though. So this was absolutely fantastic. Aw well, he’d just have to think up something on the spot. ”Well, let’s focus on offense.” Rapiers were too thin and flimsy to be good at defense. They were only ever used for blocking when facing similar weapons, and only during slashing. Hopefully James knew that because Cyrille didn’t want to risk making him worried about actually combat situations if he did told him. Jabs sounded like it’d be the most useful to focus on for now. So, they’d start with that.
Cyrille brought his sword up into a defensive position over his chest. ”Alright. Try some jabs. I’ll try to block them. See if you can notice a pattern and then attack any commonly unguarded spots on my torso.” Hopefully that was explained well enough. Cyrille was kind of shit at explaining stuff like this. He learned from repetition, not being taught by someone else. Regardless, he’d make the pattern of his guarding easily identifiable.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 19, 2015 1:20:22 GMT -5
Offense. Offense was good. Offense was useful--imperative, considering the path James had taken with his life. If he didn't know how to take down the bad guys, then he was virtually useless. Of course, getting over the fear of there actually being bad guys would need to be handled at a later date. But for now, it was good enough to know how to use his weapon. It was the first step on his journey to competence, and even though he was a little nervous he was looking forward to the rest of the lesson.
And then Cyrille further elaborated on what James was to do, and he could actually see his enthusiasm draining from the theoretical bar hanging next to his head. It suddenly hit him that despite Cyrille being the one to offer lessons, perhaps he didn't really know how to teach someone on James' level. Either that, or he severely overestimated James' knowledge of combat. This was literally the second time he had held a sword, ever.
Well, to Cyrille's credit, he hadn't said anything that didn't necessarily make sense to James. The shorter boy understood the words well, and could kind of compose a sort of plan in his head. But he didn't really have the ability to execute the plan he formed. He could just kind of stumble around until he figured something out. And that would definitely be how he learned to use the rapier at this rate, but it would be a little embarrassing and Cyrille would probably think that he was some giant loser.
And did he understand correctly that he was just supposed to go ahead and stab Cyrille? He was two-hundred percent sure that he'd never get that far, that Cyrille would definitely block any strikes he made so that wasn't what worried him. But it certainly caught him off guard, and he wasn't really sure if he was ready to simply attack another human being so soon. But mentioning that wouldn't earn any points from Cyrille, that he could tell already. But communication was what would get him through this ordeal, so he did find the courage to actually question Cyrille.
"Jab? Like..." He thrust his arm forward, unsure of himself and the silly feeling motion. He was quick to pull his arm back, then repeat the motion as though to accent his next question of "Jab?" Like literally jabbing? Or was that some kind of lingo he didn't know?
He felt silly even asking, but it was important. And he had to remind himself that it wasn't his fault that he knew nothing. It's not like his mother taught him any sword arts; her weapon was a gun, after all.
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Post by Cyrille Lécuyer on Feb 19, 2015 18:34:00 GMT -5
Cyrille wasn’t great at reading emotions. Far from it, if he was being generous on any given day he’d call himself a subpar reader of people. Cyrille didn’t talk to people often. It wasn’t his thing. The idea had been that he was the brawn and then his sister was the brains, but, well...
Regardless, Cyrille thought what he was saying was easy to comprehend. Even if someone wasn’t good with swords, the “jab” motion should be known by everyone. It was one of the easiest punches to do while still being pretty powerful. A good jab to the stomach easily winded just about anyone, and was something that should be learned by everyone for basic self defense. Whether it was or not was a different story. Most people simply brushed off having to use self defense as “oh, that’d never happen to me!”.
However, it didn’t look like James was familiar with the motion. Or... at least not familiar enough to go right ahead with the sword. Bah, there really wasn’t that much of a difference. Just a different hand position and making contact happened a bit quicker. He didn’t take his sword out of defensive stance though. Just in case. To be brutally honest, Cyrille didn’t particularly want to be stabbed this fine day.
”Yea,” Cyrille said, not really bothering to look at James’ stance or anything to closely. Time for perfecting that would come later. It wasn’t all that important on offense, just gave you some extra power and balance. So long as he wasn’t gonna break his arm because he was going it all wrong he’d be fine. ”Just make sure you’re moving from your shoulder. You’ll hurt yourself if you move with your arm.”
Hm. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea in the world to right away tell his student that he might seriously harm himself if he messed up. Well, Cyrille figured it was even meaner to not tell him such important information, as then he might get careless. Then again, what kind of idiot got careless while holding a sword?
Cyrille waited a few moments before speaking up again. ”Now, try a few on me. You don’t have to worry about hurting me or anything...” He began, pausing for a moment to let those words sink in. That was important. Cyrille had originally been scared he would hurt his instructor when he first started training with swords and had held back. Hard to judge one’s ability if they held back. ”Then I can tell you how to improve.”
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Post by Deleted on Feb 22, 2015 19:16:28 GMT -5
"Shoulder," James repeated, blinking owlishly at Cyrille before looking at his arm. He muttered the word to himself once more, before trying the move out again using his shoulder this time. He certainly didn't want to hurt himself, so he was thankful for the bit of advice. The motion felt a little awkward, probably because he was thinking about it too much. But after a few more experimental jabs, a few times with his free hand and then even a couple of times with the sword (away from Cyrille for now), he felt a little more confident in it. It was something that would hopefully just come naturally with time; in an ideal situation, he'd be able to execute the motion without even thinking about it in no time at all. But he didn't consider himself to be that quick of a learner.
He gave Cyrille a bit of a doubtful look, but kept his mouth shut. Telling him not to worry was a little useless, because he was the type who went about worrying more naturally than breathing. So he physically couldn't not worry, even if he tried. Thankfully, he had more confidence in Cyrille than he did himself so he knew he wouldn't hurt the boy. But he was still a little worried, because there were so many things that could go wrong. And Murphy was a real bitch sometimes.
Cyrille was right, though. He couldn't tell James how to improve without going through the motions. It took James only a matter of seconds to convince himself that the worst that could happen is that he'd embarrass himself, and with a deep breath he stepped a little closer and replicated his awkward jabbing motion from before, this time towards a target.
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Post by Cyrille Lécuyer on Feb 22, 2015 22:43:32 GMT -5
...Seriously. Cyrille had expected students who came to Shibusen to be somewhat adept with fighting. They went on missions to beat up kishins, after all! Most jumped right into it without training, if he was not mistake. He imagined the death count for Shibusen students wasn’t exactly a pretty number. The thought disgusted him. He shouldn’t really be surprised that a school run by the God of Death himself liked to send kids to their demise. Absolutely sickening.
No matter. Perhaps James just had confidence issues. Cyrille watched him, but with only partial interest as his mind raced like it tended to do. There was no way James could tell that his mind was going a million different directions at once. He had grown good at hiding that. Kinda a skill he needed, he absolutely hated being questioned about the sort.
His mind mostly stopped racing as James gave him a doubtful look. Now was a good time to pay complete attention. Training swords didn’t hurt, but he was more worried that James would get upset if he accidentally touched Cyrille and drew blood or something. Cyrille straightened his back as James attempted to make a jab with his sword with him as the target.
Wow. What a terrible idea this was.
Cyrille had already known this was a pretty poor idea. He just also thought maybe he could get over himself for once. The guy was incapable of taking baby steps when facing his troubles. He had to take it all at once, which ended up screwing him over more often than not. Now was no exception. He was an idiot. A complete and utter idiot who probably deserved this as a punishment for being so stupid.
Right away, his eyes widened and he could feel them dragging to look at the sword moving towards him at alarming speeds. It was going to hit his chest. His chest? Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. He was going to die. Cyrille’s entire body felt as though it might just combust from all the heat he could feel. But, ah. He was holding a sword. He had to-
Quickly and partially instinctively, Cyrille’s sword was flicked quickly to block James’ rapier. The initial contact was weak, but just as quickly as it had first hit grew much more forceful and pushed the weapon probably just a bit too hard. Easy to do with a falchion in the first place, the fact Cyrille was trying to disarm his enemy made matters worse.
Alright. He wasn’t sure if the disarm had worked, but that didn’t matter. He just needed to make sure that the person couldn’t try that again. Yes, he’d chop off their hand. Slice the other. Then he wouldn’t die. Yes, he’d be alright, and so would-
Cyrille’s sword had begun to move towards James’ sword hand, but before it could get anywhere close for James to realize that Cyrille was trying to cut his freaking hand off it was moved back and into a defensive position. The blade pointed to James like earlier, but it was upright and somewhat hid Cyrille’s face.
He still felt just a bit out of it. It took him a moment or two of looking completely lost and scared to finally zone back in and remember what he had been doing. Training. Right. What an idiot he was. He averted his eyes to the side, not particularly wanting to see the looks he just knew he was getting from James, and probably deserved.
Words were hard to think of at the moment. Well, english words, to be specific. He could think of what to say in French, but translating that was difficult. He eventually managed to speak. ”Apologies.” He simply said, still averting his eyes as he felt a cold sweat trickle down the side of his face.
Terrible. This whole thing was just terrible. And it was all Cyrille’s fault. He was a moron. He begun to shift his eyes back to James but his eyes caught the falchion he held before the boy. He stared at it like the thing was possessed for a moment, before shaking his head quickly and forcing his eyes to drop down. He squinted them slightly. He was getting a headache. Fantastic.
Cyrille’s need to hide himself so that no one could ask him any questions was becoming more and more important. Unfortunately, he couldn’t really rush to his dorm and lock the doors, trying to forget that today ever happened. Oh no, his legs would lock up as soon as he took more than two steps. He knew this all too well. Maybe one step would be okay. ”One moment.” He managed to say lowly, his voice growing raspy. Cyrille managed to turn away. Alright. That was good enough for now. Only problem was his legs now felt like they were going to give. That also was a feeling he was familiar with, but it hadn’t been this bad in eons. To steady himself a bit, he put the sword he held down to use it as a cane of sorts.
SNAP!
The training swords were cheaply made. The hilts especially. Cyrille putting so much weight on it caused it to snap, causing him to fall. WELL, that was just FANTASTIC. Gah. Today wasn’t a good day. Cyrille couldn’t do much but sit there.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Mar 17, 2015 0:25:35 GMT -5
There had been some fear, a possibility that Cyrille had set this whole thing up just to beat some sense into James. And though James had convinced himself otherwise—that Cyrille was a good friend, and genuinely wanted to help him out—he was starting to think that maybe he had been too quick to assume the best.
It wasn’t a strong jab, mostly due to James’ lack of confidence, and he had done just as Cyrille had asked him to do. But before he could even consider what to do next, the sword had been struck straight out of his hand and sent crashing to the floor. James eyes went wide, and he instinctively jumped back a little bit as a very refined “shit!” hissed past his teeth. His gaze shot up to Cyrille’s face, part nervous and part peeved, and though he had no idea which part was going to reveal itself when he spoke he had every intention of questioning this guy’s motives.
Only, in the end he didn’t say anything at all. Because Cyrille looked so scared, and that was enough to shake the tension from James’ body entirely.
This wasn’t just social anxiety. This was some order of PTSD. A condition that had escaped any kind of counseling or therapy for so long that James wasn’t even sure if there was any recovering from it. And he couldn’t help but wonder how long Cyrille had just tried to quietly deal with it by himself.
And for the first time, James was really glad that Cyrille wasn’t looking at him. Because if he was, he’d see tears streaming down the other boy’s face, and that’d probably just piss him off and he’d attack him with the sword again.
James said nothing in response to either of the statements Cyrille gave, one an apology and the other a request for time. He did, however, give a little yelp when Cyrille completely tumbled to the floor. Big brother instincts kicked in, and before he could even give the command to his legs to move he was crouching on the ground next to the other boy.
This wasn’t a baby sister. He couldn’t touch the boy’s shoulder, or run a hand through his hair or hug him and tell him he was okay—though James’ first reaction was to blubber out a “You-You’re ok-aaay!” But the way his voice broke didn’t make it sound reassuring in the least bit. Also, Cyrille was a grown man and not a five-year-old who still needed to be told such a thing.
James was quick to realize his error, and proceeded to stumble through a few apologies. “Ah, no…I-I mean…I’m so-sorry…ah…sorry!” He didn’t really know what to do, and he didn’t even really know what he was apologizing for anymore.
He still didn’t touch Cyrille in any way, though his hand kind of hovered in mid-air in case the other needed some kind of support.
“Are you…I…I’m so sorry!” Tugging on one of his long sleeves, he rubbed at his eyes in an attempt to stop the flow of saline. It didn’t have any effect, though.
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Post by Cyrille Lécuyer on Apr 6, 2015 20:06:29 GMT -5
Even if James had said something in response to Cyrille’s words, Cyrille probably wouldn’t have noticed. And, even if he had noticed, probably wouldn’t have comprehended them anyway. Stupid english being hard and stuff. He couldn’t really translate it unless he gave it a bit of thought, which was just a bit hard right now.
Cyrille’s mind was stupid. By the time he was on the ground, he had barely even realized it. His legs hadn’t even locked up, because the imminent danger had gone away. However, the thought of getting up didn’t even cross his mind. He wasn’t thinking about anything in particular - or at least nothing that he could definitely say he was thinking about. But at the same time he felt as though his mind was racing so much that he couldn’t think a coherent thought. He didn’t pay attention to surroundings, his eyes becoming somewhat glossed over. This happened a lot. He would say he was “used to it” if not for the fact he could barely even describe it.
What Cyrille most definitely could describe was the feeling that his special soul gave him. It was supposed to begin to work all the time now. But no, he was still learning. All that research hadn’t gotten him very far yet. The feeling of his grigori soul kicking in and calming him down was so very nice. Hopefully it’d kick in sooner rather than later this time around.
Probably fortunately for James, as he might just have gotten pummelled if otherwise, Cyrille really only heard his first words as a droning hum. Cyrille would have definitely noticed even the lightest touch, but that would also freak him out and get rid of the “I’m out of the woods” feeling. And when he lost that feeling... well he would feel awful for the rest of the day. Mental fatigue. Yay.
Sooner or later, Cyrille’s mind begun to clear, and he managed to hear James talking. Wait a minute... How the hell had he gotten so close?! Cyrille flinched upon the realization, and tensed up just a bit, but soon calmed down again as he noticed what it was James was saying and doing. First of all, he was apologizing. Odd. If Cyrille recalled the last events correctly, he should be the one apologizing. But secondly, what was even stranger, was that it looked like James was crying.
Cyrille did not know how to react to that.
After a few moments of him looking at James with a completely bewildered expression, Cyrille managed to speak. His voice was quiet like it normally was, perhaps even more so than normal, but did sound a tad raspy. ”Why are you crying?” He decided to address first, but then quickly changed his mind. ”Erm, nevermind. It doesn’t matter.”
Cyrille then managed to get to his feet, his legs only feeling a bit shaky. He could walk just fine. This was fine. He was fine. He just needed to get back to his dorm. ”Apologies again.” Cyrille spoke. ”But I’ll be going back to my dorm now.” His voice got progressively more raspy.
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